


Land and Leaf

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Archery, F/M, Forests, High Fantasy, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: As the crown prince of the faerie realm of Timbervale, Draco is used to expectations. But he wasn't expecting a visitor to the realm to turn his life upside down. Dramione High Fantasy AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> High Fantasy AU: Level 2 - await your surprise prompt. --> Cursed to a Faerie realm, rescue doesn't seem to be on the way. Time to find a way home.
> 
> Author's Note: Hey everyone. This story was written for the In Another Life Dramione AU Fest. Since this is a High Fantasy AU, the backstories of the main characters are different, and therefore their interactions with one another may differ from canon characterization.
> 
> Alpha credit to Kyonomiko; beta love to CourtingInsanity.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

                                                                        

A curtain of mist hung low in the lush, verdant canopy. Far ahead, Draco could just see the first rays of sun peeking through the cloud cover above as the sun reached its zenith in the pale sky. The air was humid, leaving him awash with discomfort as he lounged in the crook of an ancient cedar, its trunk sturdy enough it could have been lived in, if not for its remote location, so far from the court of Hawthorn's Hazard.

Remote enough that tracking him down would be difficult.

It was here, in the vast and wild depths of the forests of Timbervale, that Draco sought refuge from the people of Hawthorn's Hazard — high above the world and the expectations by which he had become disillusioned.

Even the endless beauty of the realm around him fell flat; Draco was  _bored_  and in need of a change. A break, away from Timbervale, and away from his parents. He frowned, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he leaned back on the thick branch. It would never be allowed.

He was grown now, an adult fae in his own right, and he ought to be able to do as he pleased. To practice his wielding without admonition, and to explore the vastness of the world — beyond Timbervale, and beyond The Nearby — as he had longed to do since he'd been a child, full of dreams and hopes for the future.

But now twenty-three, Draco felt the pressure closing in on him. Those dreams had all but vanished, the hopes dried up and drawn from him as poison from a wound through the passing of time. It was a bleak future ahead of him now — a life trapped in bureaucracy and the cage of Hawthorn's Hazard, between an ancient copse and a sheer cliff face. There, he would dwell for countless centuries, until the toll of age would finally take hold. His fatigued body would no longer be able to explore, no longer able to travel and to see the other realms of the world, about which he knew so little. The histories had been long buried.

Scowling, Draco fixed the hood of his forest cloak beneath his head, his eyes blinking open. He lifted a hand and with an intense moment of focus, he was able to summon the sparks of magic that lay beneath his skin.

He could feel the magic in his blood awakening, stirring and swirling as it pushed from his fingertips with a mellow sting.

There were realms out there — he  _knew_  there were — where the practice of magic was still a noble and honoured tradition. Here in Timbervale, wielding had become so rare it had all but died out — and it was frowned upon by those who had not been blessed with the ability. The practice of magic had even been outlawed in Hawthorn's Hazard.

He had long been discouraged from speaking aloud about his own, faint ability, despite that he knew it came from his mother's lineage.

With a harsh exhale, the sparks — golden and bright — fizzled and fell away, leaving his hand cool and the stir in his blood quiet. He stared at the tips of his fingers, the smudges of dirt and bark trapped beneath his nails from the trek and the climb, and when the hint of his magic failed to return, he dropped the hand to his stomach.

The last of the mist had all but dissipated and the sun was breaking through the canopy above with a shining warmth now, casting streaking shafts of brightness through the trees, to land on the moss and scrub far below.

Draco sighed, letting his eyes slip shut again. He'd need to return sooner or later, and he quite thought  _later_  to be the optimal choice. Perhaps he would catch a lazy afternoon snooze and dawdle in returning to the Hazard.

His eyes snapped open at the crack of a branch on the ground below and Draco tensed, one hand reaching automatically for the dagger sheathed at his waist. But when he peered down from the edge of his branch, he sneered, rolling his eyes.

"What do you want?" he called down, settling himself back on his branch. As an afterthought he added, "And how did you  _find_  me?"

"I've been sent to summon you, My Lord," Theodore Nott — one of the royal messengers — called up. "You are to hold an audience with the king."

Draco huffed a long, drawn sigh, entwining his fingers across his chest. "I'll be back in a while."

He didn't need to see Theodore to know the man was shifting on the forest floor, torn between a desire to leave Draco be and his own interests in returning successful. "The king said it was a matter of haste."

"Bully for the king," Draco grumbled, rolling his eyes. But he shouted, "Fine!"

He began his graceful descent from the tall cedar, dropping from six feet up with a heavy crunch of underbrush beneath his boots. He met Theodore's hazel gaze with a smirk. "How  _did_  you find me?"

Theodore's lips twitched. "You leave a trail, My Lord, to one who knows where to look."

Draco frowned, even as he squinted at his oldest friend. "I do not."

Breaking into a grin, Theodore shook his head as he began the long trek back to the cliffside city of Hawthorn's Hazard. "I guess you'll never know. Sometimes it's handy, being able to find you. Never mind that the king sent me out three hours ago."

Draco felt a twinge of smug satisfaction at the thought. He swept the hood of his cloak atop his blond hair, the heavy fabric catching on the peak of his ear. "At least I haven't made it  _too_  easy for you."

* * *

Draco scowled at the floor as he sat, stiff-shouldered, in his seat.

"— These childish habits of yours —" the king was ranting, waving his hands, his long blond hair perfectly in place "— sneaking off, hiding away all day long,  _exploring_  in the wilds — it needs to stop!"

He pressed his lips shut, careful to refrain from rolling his eyes.

The king halted and turned to stare at Draco with bright grey eyes — the same ones that Draco possessed. Lucius Malfoy, the King of Timbervale — and Draco's father. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to the wilds once more. He was accustomed to sleeping up a tree by now, and if it was up to Draco he would walk into the woods one day and never return. He would escape from the crushing expectations of the people of Hawthorn's Hazard — and those of his parents.

His mother was watching with a downturn to her painted lips, the skin around her eyes drawn tight. Her hair was tied into an elegant blonde twist. Narcissa Malfoy, the Queen of Timbervale.

"Draco, as the Crown Prince of Timbervale —"

Draco loosed a petulant huff, ignoring the frown of his mother. "I know." He waved a dismissive hand, having heard the lecture more times than he could count. A bitter twist to his stomach curled his lip. "I have certain  _duties_  to uphold."

His mother's eyes flashed. "Draco, it is an honour," she snapped, her tone leaving little room for argument. "The people of Timbervale look up to you and you will one day lead them — but a far cry from a leader you are now. You will observe the customs of this realm, and that is final."

He felt a cold emptiness settle in his soul when he thought of the life he would have to give up when he stepped into a seat of power in the Hazard.

It was tradition in Timbervale for the Heir Apparent to commence their rule upon their twenty-fifth birthday, regardless of the remaining youth of their parents. It would be the only way he would be able to leave the throne — to thrust it upon his own heir one day. But Lucius and Narcissa would never leave the royal house and court of Hawthorn's Hazard, even when Draco stepped into power.

It wasn't a life he wanted for any child of his own, and Draco had no interest in selecting a proper lady to sit at his side and produce his heir. His dreams were so much greater in size and wider in reach.

Despite that, the King of Timbervale was a lofty position and many in Timbervale were not so fortunate, the seat of the king was not truly so powerful when he had to fulfill the bleak interests of the court — most of whom had been in power so long their desires had exceeded corruption.

His father had been in power for two centuries already, and Lucius Malfoy no longer recognized justice from greed, or malice from beneficence.

The small, restricted cliff-city of Hawthorn's Hazard was a far cry from the endless glory of the wilderness of Timbervale.

Draco clutched the fine silver fork in a tight fist. Sucking his teeth, he loosened his grasp and let the fork fall to the intricate embroidery of the tablecloth. He turned baleful eyes on his mother, unable to look his father in the face in a gnarled blend of disappointment and shame.

"Is that all?"

The Queen of Timbervale clicked her tongue and shook her head. He could feel his father's gaze on his cheek and he felt a cold shiver chase the length of his spine. "That is all."

With a tight nod, Draco stood from his seat and returned to the quiet, constricting shell of his chambers.

* * *

It was a new experience altogether, to break through from the realm of Cascadia into the mythical land known only as The Nearby. Hermione had heard of its great vastness, the heavy mist that hung in the air and cast everything into a thick, ubiquitous cloud, but never had she seen it with her own eyes.

The divide between The Nearby and Cascadia hadn't been easy to breach — it was unintended for one to leave the realm of their birth after all, these days at least — but after months of study and research, she had managed the feat.

It wasn't that she  _hated_  Cascadia, with its pale beaches and rolling waves, sparkling pools and crashing falls — it was just that she needed something  _else_. The world was too wide, its realms too many for her to whet her appetite for adventure staying in just one place. The persistence of the sun was wearying, and the mountains treacherous in their endless mass and beauty.

She would return, one day. Her parents would understand, for she knew they had seen it in her demeanour of late. The need to do more. There were other realms, that much she knew, but about them there was no information to be found. It was to discourage the young citizens of Cascadia from crossing into the harsh and unforgiving land of The Nearby.

Hermione now knew why — the mist was thick, a smoggy haze, and it clung to her skin and clothes like a dark cloud. In the distance and all around her, she could hear the realms beyond. A faint chirping of birds, the crunching of twigs, the whisper of leaves in the trees and the crashing of waves — perhaps from within Cascadia itself.

But most disconcerting of all was the utter silence of the magic within her veins. Since she had broken through Cascadia into The Nearby, her magic had gone quiet and she couldn't bring forth even a trace. She wasn't certain she was ready to admit what that meant, but couldn't keep the thoughts from drifting through her mind.

Her magic was as much a part of her as her chocolate eyes, or her wild curls. She felt both disarmed and naked, neither of which were reassuring.

Did it mean that the other realms had no magic — no wielders? Were they perhaps not realms of fae at all, but mortals?

Swallowing the thick lump of trepidation that had formed in her throat, Hermione patted her hands dry on the thin material of her knee-length trousers. The cool, damp air of The Nearby traced the exposed skin of her arms and legs, bringing goose pimples to her flesh and a chill to her soul.

Taking a step forward before she could chase back through the rip in the fabric of Cascadia, fighting the urge to ensconce herself in the warmth by her favourite creek or bask by the hot springs, Hermione ventured further into The Nearby.

She heard it all sharper now, the distant sounds. But above all the rest, the blended murmur of thousands of voices. The people and creatures of the realms — whether fae, human, or otherwise — were speaking to her.  _Calling_  to her.

The haze of the realm between realms rolled on in wisps of cloud as far as her sharp gaze could see, the sounds echoing both without and within. But still she paced forward, her steps growing quicker as the cool air turned to a breeze, and without warning, began sweeping past her in fell gusts. Hermione pressed on, hands clutched to her sides and shoulders tensed, wishing beyond anything else that she could feel even a hint of her magic swirling through her veins.

She had brought only the satchel on her back, filled with food and essential provisions, and the few weapons she possessed — a modest silver dagger and a handcrafted bow with a dozen arrows in her leather quiver, their fletching imperfect and bent from reuse and age. She was an expert with neither; the wide and watery lands of Cascadia had long been quiet of enemies. Her best hope would be to locate a source of water — she could fashion a hook and rod with the simplest of materials.

She froze, sensing the whisper of a realm ahead. The rustling of the wind called to her, leaves and branches dancing on the cool breeze of The Nearby. Taking another deep breath, Hermione crept forward until the other sounds had faded away but for the endless waltz of the forest. She stood on the precipice of the realm, and the instinctive understanding of it came from somewhere deep within her, and ancient. From times when fae freely traversed the lands between realms. Before the politics and long-standing rivalries among the realms had cast such stark divisions as those which now stood.

Not knowing where the path would take her, Hermione settled her countenance and broke through The Nearby.

* * *

Her first night in the depths of the forest was dark and harrowing, the ominous echoing of creatures all around her as Hermione failed to find any respite from the new world in which she had found herself.

This place was nothing like Cascadia with its hot sun, wide beaches and towering peaks.

It was forest as far as the eye could see, a deep woodland realm of ancient, towering trees, their lush canopy so thick they nearly blocked out the sun — and so much cooler than the warmth with which she had grown up. At the break of dawn she had risen from her makeshift bed, pitched beneath a hastily constructed tent of thick canvas, packed her bag, and carried on.

It was nearing midday when Hermione saw the first hints of a landscape beyond the trees — a meadow, its fields lush and green, speckled with an array of wildflowers. A rolling stream veered towards her as she neared the glade; one of the only skills of her magic that had come into this vast forest with her, she discovered, was the ability to cleanse a water source.

She filled her skein and drank deeply, the water cold and fresh, before carrying on.

The sun was both brighter and warmer as she broke from the canopy of the forest and into the meadow. There she had lingered, basking in the beauty of the meadow and the foliage that grew there. A pack of rabbits chased past, too quick for her to consider catching, and after too long she rose to continue on.

She hadn't seen a single soul — mortal or fae — since breaking through The Nearby.

And so it came as a great surprise when Hermione broke back into the forest and found a gleaming arrowhead in her periphery — a furrow in the brow of its owner, visible beneath the hood of a heavy green cloak, and the rest of the face cast in shadow.

"You drank from the king's stream," the bowman said, his voice sharp and accented in a way she had never heard before.

Hermione froze and as she considered making a move for her dagger, she heard the rustle in the forest; her eyes caught the movement of others.

"Speak," the man demanded, his bowstring drawn tight. "Explain yourself."

"I didn't realize!" Hermione gasped, every muscle tensed as her brain turned over his words. "I didn't know the stream was —"

"Sacred," the man grunted and loosened the string of his gloriously crafted recurve longbow as his dark gaze remained fixed on her. "Everyone knows the king's stream is sacred.  _And_  the king's meadow."

"I didn't, I promise," she breathed, eyes darting to the woods once more. Other archers materialized, on the ground and in the trees. "I — I came from The Nearby. A day ago."

"The Nearby." The archer blinked, dropping his bow as he stared at her — she could see his wide hazel eyes and he dropped his hood, exposing pointed ears. Fae, then.

"Yes." Hermione nodded, her throat dry as she forced a swallow. "I came from Cascadia."

The archer scowled but stowed his arrow into a lavish, embellished quiver and swung the longbow onto his back. "Cascadia." His lip curled into a sneer. "Another realm, is it? How'd you get into The Nearby anyway? No way to get there from  _here_ that I've ever heard of."

Hermione swallowed, a sear of panic seizing her chest. "And where is  _here,_ might I ask?"

The archer blinked and shook his head, fixing her with a curious stare. The other archers approached — four of them in total — and Hermione tensed, shrinking into herself. The first one answered, "This is Timbervale — the woodland realm."

"Timbervale," she breathed, testing the word. She had never heard of such a place.

"Right." The archer shared a look with his comrades, his face grim. "And you'll be going to see the king at Hawthorn's Hazard."

* * *

King Lucius was both intimidating and regal, his long pale hair tied with a ribbon at the back of his head, an entwined crown of silver twigs perched atop. His wife was the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen — Queen Narcissa of Timbervale — and she hesitated before them both.

The daughter of Cascadian merchants, Hermione had never met the royalty that lived far on the other side of her own realm.

She had been thrust before them, high upon their dais upon matching thrones of silver branches twisted amongst exotic forest woods. The archers who had found her explained her crimes — drinking from the stream and passing through the meadow — although to Hermione both of those seemed rather innocuous and harmless, and quite like things she would have done on a daily basis in Cascadia to no consequence.

Timbervale, it seemed, was different and the city of Hawthorn's Hazard was as fearful as it was dangerous, perched high upon the edge of a cliff and surrounded by a thick wall and an endless grove of hawthorn.

Her gaze caught a stir of movement in her peripheral vision and she found the grey eyes of a male fae across the room — his expression was startled for the briefest of moments before it was schooled into stoic boredom. By his pale hair, she could only surmise him to be a relative of the king and queen — a son, perhaps — although despite his position, he didn't wear a crown but rather a simple hooded forest cloak like the archers.

The son strolled to the front of the room, his eyes following the proceedings with mild, standoffish interest.

King Lucius' eyes were cold as he stared at her. "Visitors from The Nearby are not welcome in Timbervale. You will be released with just this one warning — if you break any more of our laws, the penalty will be far more severe. You will travel back to the tear through which you arrived, perform whatever sorcery brought you here, and  _return_  to your own realm."

Queen Narcissa's icy blue eyes were fixed on her, and the pale eyes of the son tightened, his expression betraying nothing.

"Understood," Hermione choked, her mouth dry. She didn't know that she wanted to stay in Timbervale anyway, after the way she'd been received.

But the problem remained that she didn't know whether she'd be able to access the magic that had brought her to Timbervale. The spell she'd used to enter The Nearby was still active when she had entered the forest, but to get  _back_  could require more magic than she had.

If King Lucius was willing to let her go, however, she wasn't going to belabour the finer points. She was going to  _go_. Hawthorn's Hazard was a dark and gloomy place, and she longed to return to the vast wilderness of the forests.

With a wave of the king's hand she was dismissed — and she fled.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she paced the beaten trail through the woods, her eyes flickering back and forth as they fixed on the trees ahead of her. Trying to find her way back to the place through which she had entered from The Nearby was proving to be a challenge, and she had already spent hours searching.

Everything was starting to look the same, endless sprawling groves and woods with the occasional small glade — and each time Hermione's heart leapt into her throat in case she had returned to the king's meadow once more.

But still she trod on, the dampness in the soil beneath her feet seeping into the soft leather of her boots. The sun was obscured by a thick layer of cloud cover and a pale mist had descended between the trees of Timbervale. Hermione slung her traveling cloak over her shoulders, but it had been crafted for the more temperate lands of Cascadia and she feared it wouldn't keep her warm enough come nightfall.

Huffing a breath, she stopped and drew a slice of crusty bread and her water skein from her pack, nibbling the bread as she walked and being careful not to consume too much of her water. She didn't know by what means the archers had found her earlier that day and wasn't keen to run into them again. She doubted the royal court of Timbervale would be lenient a second time.

Hermione wasn't certain whether she would be able to enter The Nearby as she had before, but being exiled from Timbervale left her little option but to try.

And if she couldn't… well. She quashed the nerves rising at the very thought and quickened her pace. She had brought the book she'd utilized the first time, so maybe there was another way through.

She nearly leapt from her skin at the sound of a smooth voice above her. "You do realize, of course, you've been down this path three times now."

Her hand flew to the dagger at her waist, drawing it from its sheath as she stared around, and into the tall canopy. Her senses were usually sharper than this — but everything about her had been out of sorts since leaving Cascadia.

Eyes widening in fear and hand gripping the hilt of her dagger, Hermione watched as a hooded someone dropped down in front of her, a smirk curling his lips and the rest of his face kept in shadow. He swept the hood back from his head and she was seized with both surprise and hesitation to see it was the blond fae from the court. The one she had guessed to be the son of the king.

But even as she considered his appearance, his words registered and she felt a flush paint her cheeks. "I'm leaving — I promise. I just need to get back to where I entered so I can reach The Nearby," she stalled, hoping he would believe her words.

But the blond simply waved a hand towards her dagger and Hermione sheathed it once more, despite the warning bells pealing in the back of her mind. He chuckled, turning from her and glancing behind him.

"You aren't leaving if you can't find your way." He snickered and Hermione felt a flare of indignance despite her circumstances.

"I'll find my way," she challenged, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "Eventually. How long have you been following me?"

"Since you left court. Don't look so embarrassed — I know these woods better than anyone, and the ways to keep unseen." He stared at her, calculating, for a long, tenuous moment before folding his arms across his chest. "Tell me your name."

She scowled at him, debating the merits of either refusing or lying and determined neither would get her out of the situation. "It's Hermione."

"Hermione," the fae drawled, as if testing the word on his lips. "Fascinating. And where did you come from, Hermione?"

She squared her shoulders, staring him in the eye. "Like I told your king, I came from Cascadia. By way of The Nearby."

He hesitated, a shock of pale blond hair hanging across his grey eyes as he stared at her, his lips parted. "No lie, then? You came from another realm?"

"No lie," she agreed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Now will you let me go so I can leave your blasted woods? You don't need to tell your father, or uncle, or what have you —"

"My father," he clipped, the word delicate as if distasteful. "Here's the thing, Hermione — by Timbervale law I am to report your lingering presence in our woods."

"I'm lost, then, alright?" she ground through her teeth. The fae — the  _prince_ , apparently — waved a dismissive hand.

"I don't care if you stay," he said with a shrug, the words blunt. "I'm not going tell my father you're still here — but you're going to do something for me in return."

She felt her lip curl as she released a sound of irritation. But he held up a hand before she could make a remark.

His next words sent a shocking thrill racing through her. "You're going to take me with you — into The Nearby."

She nearly choked. "I can't take you with me! If your king was ready to punish me for passing through a meadow I can only imagine the penalty for abducting his heir!"

"Death," the fae said, his voice soft. His cloudy stare was hard on her. "The penalty would be death."

"Absolutely not," she breathed, shaking her head. She began to make off down the path again before remembering she was still lost. She released an angry huff of a breath. "Please just tell me the way. Even if you can direct me back to the meadow, I'm sure I can find it from there."

The prince pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. "If you won't help me, why should I help you?"

"That is incredibly self-serving." Hermione sighed, fixing him with a glare. "If your king's archers find me again what's to say they won't shoot on sight?"

"They will," the prince informed her. "Unless you're with me." His lips twitched, but something shone behind his eyes — something honest. "I know you don't know anything about me — but please. Show me how to reach The Nearby, and I'll grant you safe passage through Timbervale."

It was at that point that Hermione realized he wore a pack of his own — as if he didn't intend to return to Hawthorn's Hazard. An elegant recurve bow and a quiver of the finest arrows hung from his shoulders. She met his eyes, searching for a hint of a lie beneath them. She breathed, "You're serious about this. What is your name?"

"Draco," he said, his brows hopeful. "And you really have no option — these woods are a maze even if you're familiar with them. An outsider won't stand a chance."

"Draco," she echoed, twisting her lips. She hesitated for a long moment, before sighing. She might come to regret it, but it was best to let him know now. "I don't know if I can get  _either_  of us into The Nearby. My magic hasn't been working since I left Cascadia."

His eyes shot open in surprise. "You're a wielder?"

"Yes." She blinked at him, cautious. "Are you not? Is there no magic in Timbervale?"

"There is," he breathed, his voice low, "but it's rare. No one speaks of it, because the magical lines have all but died out."

She huffed a breath. "That explains a lot. Regardless, I'll need to study a different method to access The Nearby — and so you're aware, it may take some time."

His pale stare caught her again. "I'm not going back to the Hazard, Hermione. However long it takes."

Steeling her countenance, she gave him a crisp nod. "Then lead the way."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this continuation of their adventure.
> 
> Alpha credit to Kyonomiko; beta love to CourtingInsanity.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

                                                         

Draco stared at the female fae beside him as the last vestiges of sunlight faded and they were plunged into the soft darkness of dusk. He almost hadn't been able to believe his own sharp hearing when she'd said she had come from a different realm that afternoon.

She was his way out of Timbervale, and if he was lucky, he wouldn't return. From The Nearby he could travel to any realm he wished, allowing the weight of his parents' expectations to slough from his shoulders, and find a new start.

He had never heard of her realm — Cascadia — before, but maybe it would be a good place to start. He wondered why she had left in the first place.

Draco hadn't decided whether he wanted to tell her about his own fledgling magic, but if there was a chance it could help her break through the realm, he would.

"Tell me about Cascadia," he requested as they set up a makeshift camp for the night. Draco would have simply scaled the tallest tree he could find and slept there, but Hermione looked queasy at the thought, her eyes wide as she had stared up into the sturdy branches.

"There aren't many trees," she said with a bit of a laugh, staring at the dark shadows of the neverending forest stretching out in all directions. "But so much water — pools and rivers and lakes — and in the mountains, there are thousands of waterfalls that crash into hot springs. The people of Cascadia build huts on the beaches, and have large gatherings in the evening where the fish and sea creatures caught that day are prepared and their spirits celebrated."

There was a lingering smile on her lips as she spoke, sitting on the forest floor, and Draco could see it in his mind's eye. He gave her a sidelong grin and sat beside her, propping his knees up in front of him. "It sounds nice. Why leave?"

She gave a shrug. "It  _is_ nice. It was never my intention to leave forever," she cast him a grim look. "I just wanted to see more of the world, you know?"

Draco nodded, feeling her words resonate deep in his soul. "I know that feeling."

"Deep in the heart of Cascadia is a whirlpool," she went on, as if in an afterthought, "and when fae reach a certain age they make the trek to see it — to surf it."

"Surf it," Draco repeated, confused.

"It's for sport," she explained, smiling. "To see if they can make it across the pull on a long board that floats atop the water."

He shook his head. It sounded terrifying. "But what if they don't? What is on the other side if they fall in?"

"I don't know," she smiled. "I haven't tried yet."

He waved his hands. "Well do they return?"

"Eventually." The skin around her eyes tightened. "But no one will ever say what it is they saw."

He laughed despite himself at the absurdity of it. "According to Timbervale legend, there is an ancient village buried deep in the heart of the realm." Her stare was fixed on him, spurring him on. "Thousands of years ago, the people of the forest realm lived in this village, long before Hawthorn's Hazard was built for the court to rule."

"And what happened to it?" Her breathing was soft, clinging to his words.

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. They left, I guess, and didn't return. I've been looking for it since I was young, but have yet to find it. I believe it's out there, somewhere. Maybe now I'll never find it."

Hermione smiled, turning to look at him. "It sounds lovely."

"The part I always hoped to find was the archives," Draco admitted. If they were leaving Timbervale anyway, it wouldn't hurt for her to know. "Apparently, the people of the village kept a written record — the histories of the realms.  _All_  of them. Timbervale, Cascadia, others — and how The Nearby came to be. Can you imagine?"

She had fallen silent, her wide eyes fixed on him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't even breathing. "All of them?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"And you've never seen it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "In a little more than a year I would have to take up the ruling seat of Hawthorn's Hazard — it's tradition in Timbervale to pass the throne upon the heir's twenty-fifth birthday. So if I haven't found it by now… it's unlikely I'll ever find it, even if I stay here."

Hermione gave a wistful sigh. "I don't think anything like that exists in Cascadia."

"But The Nearby," he urged. "You can reach all of the realms, can't you?"

"So I've been told," she said, shaking her head. "But I don't know — Timbervale was my first attempt."

"Which worked," Draco pointed out, and she nodded. "So you must be able to reach the others."

"If we can get back through," she agreed. "I'll try the next, I suppose."

Draco cracked a grin, staring at her. "I think I'd like to visit Cascadia. One day."

Her smile faltered, just for a moment. "Find me if you do. I'll give you the tour."

"If you're there," he said with a tilt to his head, "I will."

Hermione stifled a yawn, folding her arms across herself in the growing breeze of the night. She glanced at him, her face turning to the carpet of the woods. "I don't know what I was looking for in leaving Cascadia — just something different. A sign that all of life isn't the same thing day in and day out."

Draco swallowed, once more feeling her words sing deep within him. "I know. I spend so much time in the forest because I want to explore the world — I don't want to sit on a throne and rule and deal with the layers of corruption buried in the dealings of the court. I want to  _experience_  my life — as fae we are blessed with long lives, and I don't want to watch mine waste away, and wonder, when I reach the end."

Her brows were knitted as she released a tight breath, nodding. "I don't know anything about any of that — but I think I understand exactly what you're saying, Prince Draco."

He rolled his eyes, yanking a spare forest cloak from his bag and tossing it at her. "I thought you'd need this."

Her eyes lit with relief and gratitude and Draco swallowed a thick breath as she whispered, "Thanks."

* * *

By mid-morning, the sun had risen high in the sky and broke through the canopy of the trees, filtering through in bright shafts that warmed the air and the soil beneath their feet. Hermione paused mid-step in one of its rays, allowing her eyes to slide shut.

"This temperature is more like what we are used to in Cascadia," she allowed, the corners of her lips pulling into a musing smile.

Draco turned to watch her, leaning back against a nearby tree, his expression contemplative. "This is about as warm as it gets in Timbervale, but it doesn't get much colder than it was last night, either."

"It isn't too bad," she teased, carrying on once more. "Are we nearing the meadow?"

"Close," he permitted.

They carried on in silence for a stretch, and Hermione wondered at the furrow in his brow. They had awoken with the sun, but had a slow start to the day. Draco had vanished for long enough to make Hermione wonder if he hadn't left her in the wild, but he returned with a scavenged meal of forest sustenance. In no time at all he had built a fire and prepared a meal from nuts, berries and tree bark.

She had a collection of the nuts leftover in her pack.

"Timbervale does have a certain beauty about it, doesn't it?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence between them. Despite having met him just the day before, she felt oddly connected to him — like they understood one another.

"It does," Draco agreed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "It's why I've always loved exploring the woods. I suppose, in recent years, the pressure coming from the Hazard has dulled some of the beauty of the forest for me." He gave a shrug, a bitter tug to his lips. "Like it's all… tainted."

"I suppose I can accept that," she said, her voice quiet. "My parents were merchants in our small community. I never had that sort of pressure. And even now, speaking of home, I am beginning to miss it."

The prince turned to stare at her, his brow heavy and grey eyes refracting the brightness of the sun breaking through, bringing silver into his irises. "I don't know exactly where you entered and from the sound of it, you didn't enter Timbervale very near to the meadow. I'll see if I can track your path when we get there."

"I'm not sure I'll remember," she admitted, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "But even if we can get close I might be able to access the entrance."

It had been too dark in the forest by nightfall for her to search her book for any alternative ways to break through into The Nearby. She would have to take some time once they arrived near the meadow.

Draco was still pensive, but his lips curved with a hint of a smile. "What do you say to a bit of a detour?"

"A detour?" She blinked at him.

"Yes," he said, "come on, it'll be fun."

"Shouldn't we return to the meadow?" she asked, frowning.

"The meadow isn't going anywhere," Draco said, already changing his route to lead her in a different direction. "Besides, you haven't seen the real beauty of Timbervale yet."

At his enthusiasm she found herself smiling, turning to follow him and falling into step at his side once more. "Fine. I'm trusting you."

He cracked a grin. "Be careful when you say that." But his shoulder nudged against hers and there was a sparkle in his eyes she hadn't seen before. "I'll introduce you to some friends — and maybe you'll find something that reminds you of home here after all."

A breath caught in her throat as she felt a heat flood her cheeks that had little to do with the warmth of the sun. She wondered at the sheer scale of the forest, and for Draco to know it so well, he must have spent years exploring it all. And to think there were things he still hadn't discovered. That there might be a long lost archive hidden somewhere in the woods…

"So your bow," he commented, interrupting her thoughts. "Do you know how to use it, or is for decoration?"

There was a smirk curving his lips when she glanced over.

"I could stand to improve," she admitted, tugging her lower lip between her teeth. "It was my father's. There isn't much need for weapons in Cascadia. There are groups that live on the outskirts that follow their own laws and customs, but by and large it's a peaceful realm. All Cascadians are excellent when it comes to fishing by rod or spear, but we haven't much use for archery."

"That makes sense." Draco nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets as he peered over her shoulder to appraise the wood. "It's a fine bow. I'll teach you, if you like."

Hermione nodded, her eyes wide. "I would like to learn."

He flashed her a brief smile, falling back into silence as they carried on through the forest, ducking branches as the trees grew larger still and tighter together.

Some distance further on, he cleared his throat. "It sounds like you were close with your parents."

"Yes," Hermione mused and his expression was blank when she glanced at him again. "We have always been close. They were young when I was born — not even a half century — and they taught me so many things, and always encouraged me to learn as much as I could. They're merchants, you see, and they've always hoped for something else for me."

He nodded, silent, and Hermione frowned. "I get the impression you and your parents… are not so close?"

"Not close," he agreed. "They indulged my interests as a youth, but as I've grown older, they now find the things that interest me to be childish and distracting." He cast her a sidelong stare. "My mother has always been in possession of a small amount of magic, and I'd hoped she would one day teach me, but it's been outlawed in the Hazard my whole life and she doesn't care to leave the city walls."

"Teach you?" Hermione asked, her eyes darting to meet his, pale and stormy grey. "Have you inherited her magic then?"

Draco hesitated for a long moment, his nose scrunched up, and then he shrugged. "Some — not much, I don't think. But I don't know the first thing about wielding it. It's the other reason I always hoped to find the archives. Everyone in Timbervale had magic thousands of years ago, but it's almost vanished entirely."

"Show me?" She paused, turning to face him. His expression was guarded, and she suspected he had never been able to share these thoughts with anyone else. "I'd like to see… if you're willing."

He toed the forest floor, but lifted a hand, palm facing the sky. The skin around his eyes tightened in concentration, and moments later a shimmer of gold sparks rose from his fingertips, swirling and bursting like firecrackers.

Hermione felt a stirring of warmth in her stomach — here was their chance at accessing The Nearby once more, if Draco could learn how to channel his magic. Or if he would allow  _her_  to channel his magic — but it was one of the most intimate and soul-baring things to ask of a fae.

"I can't —" he said, shaking his head as the sparks faded off and vanished. "I can't control them very well. I don't know how to wield it into anything stronger."

"I suspect you have a greater depth of magic than you realize," Hermione remarked, pacing forward once more. His grey eyes flickered to hers. "I can teach you the basics of wielding, which will allow you to channel the energy properly and dig deeper."

Draco's eyes remained on her as they walked. "I would appreciate that."

The flush in her face returned as she fought back a smile.

* * *

It was nearly evening when Draco began to notice the tell-tale signs — the downward slope of the forest floor, the gradual thinning of the trees, even as the trunks grew impossibly wide and sturdy.

They had stopped for a late lunch and he had shown Hermione the basics of holding and shooting a bow. She was better than he'd expected, but had been unable to catch any of the small forest critters chasing past. After his stomach began grumbling, Draco plucked his own bow from his back and secured them enough to eat.

In return, she had explained the basics of learning how to channel his magic over their meal.

She stuttered to a halt beside him, her eyes widening as the path became interspersed with a series of stones, widening into a trail. She hissed as they carried on into a valley, where two tall and sparkling lanterns lit either side of the road.

The trees here were some of the widest in all of Timbervale, and Draco could hear the hum and murmur of people as they approached deeper into the valley.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide in trepidation.

"This," Draco said, pausing a step, "is the valley of Bristlecone. And don't worry, they won't report either of us to the king. They live this far out from the Hazard for a reason. Sort of like your… outskirt rebels."

She flashed him a bright smile and Draco couldn't keep his eyes from lingering. "I hope you're hungry."

Several Timbervalian youth chased past as they made their way into the heart of the village, and it was worth the journey just to see the look on Hermione's face.

"These are  _homes_ ," she breathed, staring at the massive trunks.

"Yes." Draco smiled and looked around; the village always took his breath away, even after first coming across it more than fifteen years prior. "These are the largest, strongest trees in all of Timbervale. Welcome."

Hermione swallowed, shaking her head as she gazed around. "It's stunning."

And he knew it was. Lanterns of all sizes sparkled and shone, casting an otherworldly glow in the fading dusk light. The trunks had been hollowed out and built into homes for the residents here, and the gnarled branches reached high into the sky.

"Draco!" a voice called, and he felt a grin slip to his features as he moved deeper into the village, Hermione following at his flank.

"Ted," he returned, clutching the man into an embrace.

The older man chuckled, turning to Hermione with a smile. "It's been too long since you've been out to see us. And who's this?"

She stepped in closer, giving Draco a quick glance before smiling as well. "My name is Hermione."

"Hermione's come from Cascadia, Ted," Draco said, meeting the man's dark stare. "Through The Nearby."

"Well," Ted said, clutching a hand to his chest as he shook his head in wonder. "Isn't that something else. Come along, you'll have to meet everyone."

Draco lingered back for a moment beside Hermione as Ted led the way further in. Light danced in the sky all around, bright and raucous laughter echoing through the air. The atmosphere of it always relaxed the stress from Draco's mind; it was here he would live if he had the choice.

"Ted's my uncle," Draco informed Hermione as they followed. "Married to my Aunt Andromeda — Mother's sister." At her sharp and questioning glance, he added, "They aren't fond of politics. Andromeda left the Hazard when she was young. She met Ted and they've been here ever since. They have a daughter, a little older than us."

He heard the sharp breath chase from her lungs as they crested the final ridge into the heart of Bristlecone. Ahead of them lay the bustle of the village, its residents dancing and singing to the beat of joyous music, while still others worked at preparing the evening meal.

"It's wonderful!" Hermione gasped and her eyes shone when he glanced over. Her lips pulled into a faint smile. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He felt a returning smile on his own lips. "The real surprise is where we're going from here — but we'll stay the night here and venture out tomorrow. You won't be able to walk after a feast like this anyways."

"Stay here," she mused, staring at the tree homes, her eyes bright. "Sounds brilliant."

Draco glanced away from her bright gaze, brushing a hand across the small of her back. "Come on, then. This is the sort of adventure you're here for, isn't it?"

He swallowed as her fingers wrapped around his wrist and she breathed, "Absolutely."

* * *

Hermione awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open as she took in the unfamiliar setting. In a moment, the party of the night before came back to her — lanterns sparkling in the darkness of the night sky and crackling bonfires. Roasted meats and root vegetables and all manner of sweet fruits. Roaring laughter and singing, music plucked from strings and the chasing rhythms of drums.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced back in Cascadia.

And the way Draco, after a few glasses of sweet faerie wine — his cheeks flushed and grey eyes glazed — had taken her hand and tugged her into the fields to dance.

Even as she had stumbled over his feet on the unfamiliar steps, he had simply laughed and spun her until she was out of breath, her own laughter echoing across the sky.

She smiled up at the roof of her temporary forest lodging. The trunk had been hollowed, a ladder spiraling up the interior walls, three stories. She was on the highest floor and on the next was a small sitting room with a bookshelf. Intending to make her way down to go outside, she instead found she was distracted by the three small tomes that sat on the shelf.

One was a book of children's tales, one a book of recipes, and the third was a short telling of the regions of Timbervale.

Draco found her seated cross-legged on the floor, her eyes wide as she studied the terrain to the south east of the realm; it wasn't  _entirely_  forest, as she had suspected, but there was a small area of craggy rock.

"Easily distracted, aren't you?"

She looked up, jolted from her studies, to see Draco leaning against the ladder on the far wall, his expression amused. Hermione felt a flush colouring her cheeks as her recollections of the night before darted through her mind.

The way he had grinned without reservation, the stress and weight he had carried when they met all but gone from his shoulders. The way his stormy eyes had sparkled as he stared at her and danced with her. And at the end of the night, how he had led her deep into the fields behind the village and pointed out his favourite Timbervalian constellations.

"Have you seen this?" she asked, pointing out the map.

"I have," he commented, pushing off of the wall and striding forward. He bent down, tapping the page with a long finger, onto a small topographical disturbance a short distance from Bristlecone. "And this is where we're headed today."

"Water," Hermione breathed, flashing him a grin.

"But hurry up," he clipped, rising again. "You've nearly missed breakfast."

She leapt up, stowing the books back onto the shelf and following him from the tree.

* * *

Their packs were laden with food, but it was with a heavy heart that Draco left the village of Bristlecone for what may well have been the last time. If he and Hermione were able to successfully break out of Timbervale and into the world beyond, he didn't know whether he would ever choose to return to his own realm.

There was a certain sentimentality to the thought, however, and he knew he would miss his extended family out here, so far from the stern visage of Hawthorn's Hazard. When he really thought about it, he would miss his parents too, and his friends in the court city.

But it so greatly  _wasn't_  a life he desired for himself.

Hermione was silent beside him, whether lost in her own thoughts or recognizing his need for introspection, he wasn't sure. Regardless, he was grateful for it.

They had danced and talked well into the early hours of the night, until the sun was nearly ready to peek up beyond the horizon, and the air between them today felt more comfortable than it ever had.

It was nice, not being on his own. She understood him, even though their circumstances were not the same. And he liked the way the sun sparkled in her eyes and danced through her wild curls. The way her pink lips curved with amusement when she looked at him.

"Second thoughts?" she asked, breaking the silence some time later.

"No," Draco said, even as he sighed. "It's just… there  _are_  parts I'll miss, you know?"

"Of course there are," she agreed, and it was this simple acquiescence to his words that caused the newfound tension to sink from his back. "You've spent your whole life here, much as I've spent mine in Cascadia. There are bound to be people and places you'll miss."

"Right," Draco intoned, shifting a bit closer to her as they walked. "But you'll return to Cascadia."

"There may come a day," Hermione said, glancing at him, "when you miss the woods of Timbervale and decide to return home."

"I'd be subjecting myself to a cage," he said, his tone quiet and with an undercurrent of bitterness. "The court in the Hazard is so ancient and convoluted, Hermione… Timbervalian law is so strict; you've seen as much yourself."

"So change it," she suggested and he missed a step, stumbling over a thick root on the ground.

"I can't just…" he trailed off, a furrow knitting his brow as he considered her words. "I can't just  _change_  the law."

"If you're king…" she hedged, letting the words hang between them. "Who's to say you can't be a better king, Draco? Maybe at some point in time, your father wanted to make a difference. Why must the king remain in the Hazard at all times? Why can't the king visit the villages or the other realms? The royal family in Cascadia venture across the lands every so often."

"It just doesn't work that way, here," he said, shaking his head, even as something deep within him felt rattled at the possibility. Timbervalian law was so ancient and cold in its nature — but was there a way to change it?

Hermione's voice was soft as she said, "It's worth a thought."

Even as they walked, thoughts began to race through Draco's mind. "I'd release the ban on magic. The wielders could come forward without fear of prosecution. Dismiss the corruption in the court." He flashed her a grin.

She threw up her hands. "Why not make Hawthorn's Hazard like the village? If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have known the two to even belong to the same realm."

He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. "I still have no interest in ruling. Settling down with someone and producing heirs. It all sounds so… stifling."

"It  _does_  sound stifling," she agreed, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. "But you're young. Maybe one day you'll meet someone and be all too willing to  _produce heirs_."

Draco snickered, glancing sidelong at her. But there was something in the set of her jaw and he slid his hands into his pockets, lengthening his stride. "Maybe one day." He stared at her, at the tightness around her eyes. "And what about you? Is there someone waiting for you to return home?"

Hermione turned to him with wide eyes, then shook her head with a short, mirthless laugh. "No. No one waiting for me."

"You're young," he echoed, nudging her shoulder with his own. He gave her a teasing smirk. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-four," she said, her stare landing on the path again.

"Practically a baby," Draco mused, wanting the loosen the stiffness from her step and shoulders.

Her snort was indelicate as she rolled her eyes at him. "Older than you, aren't I?"

He swung out an arm to impede her step, given she had chosen an inopportune moment to stop watching the path. Her eyes widened as he caught her in the sternum and her hands rose to grab hold of his arm as a sharp breath chased from her lungs.

"Draco," she choked, lips parted in what he could only surmise to be a mixture of delight and wonder. "This is — "

" _This_  is the only waterfall in Timbervale." He smiled at the incredulity in her eyes and his tone softened. "I thought you might like it."

Ahead of them was a sharp drop into a gully and across, the wild drop of the Stonerush Falls — twisting and branching out from the source of the river high above and across, and plunging into a pool far below.

Out from within the protection of the forest, the roar of the water was unmistakable, and he followed her gaze to the warm pool at the base of the gully.

"Can we get down there?" she asked, her voice soft and reverent.

"Of course we can," Draco returned, slipping his hand into hers. "This way — and mind the stones are slippery."

Her eyes were bright as they met his.

* * *

Hermione crept out from behind a large boulder, having changed into the swim clothes she had stowed in the bottom of her pack — just in case. Draco had dressed down into his shorts, and she halted mid-step upon approaching him. She hadn't expected him to be so… defined. Beneath his thick cloak, she hadn't been able to tell, but his arms were strong and the muscles of his chest and stomach toned. His lips curved into a smirk at the colour in her cheeks.

Doing her best to ignore him  _and_  her mounting embarrassment, Hermione scaled to the top of the boulder.

She could feel his stare on her as she fixed her gaze on the spring below and leapt into a graceful dive. The water was warm and sparkling, heated by the sun overhead. It was the closest thing to home she'd found since leaving Cascadia and she rolled her head back, allowing the water to sleek her curls and her eyes to flutter.

Moments after she had surfaced, Draco crashed down into the water nearby, as inelegant as could be. He flashed her a bright grin, water pouring from his face and she rolled her eyes, shoving a small wave in his direction.

His expression softened, his eyes like pale clouds as he stared at her. "I come here as often as I can. Do you like it?"

She breathed, "I love it." She stared up at the impressive, towering height of the falls, branching its way down the face of the cliff and crashing into the far end of the pool. "We have falls like this in Cascadia, and the more daring like to leap from the top. Over the millennia, the springs have been fashioned into a series of small pools and we visit them late at night."

Draco was watching her face as she spoke, and his lips curved into a scintillating smile. "Sounds fun."

"It is." She returned the grin and raised a hand. "I can't help but wonder…"

Her magic had felt so faint as to be almost nonexistent in the vast forests of Timbervale, but something stirred within her in the water. A spark danced and sang within her blood stream.

A breath chased from Draco's lips as water droplets danced from her fingertips. With a smile, she swung her wrist in a flourish and a wave materialized and crashed atop his head.

He spluttered, swiping water from his eyes, and fixed her with a hard stare, one brow cocked. "Your magic?"

Hermione nodded. "The water is encouraging it, at last." She shifted closer to him in the water, taking his wrist in her other hand and aligning their fingers. She could feel the spark of his magical depths and pushed her own forth. "Can you feel it?"

"Yes," he whispered, blinking at her. "I can feel your magic."

"Wielders are always stronger when they work together. It's what has always made our magic so beautiful," she explained, even as she felt her magic begin to wither away. "It's still weak, of course. But maybe between the two of us we can summon enough power to release the hold of Timbervale and move into The Nearby."

His answering smile stole her next breath.

"I find," Draco breathed, his stare fixed on her, "I'm not in such a rush, after all."

She swallowed, her own smile faltering. His fingers were still pressed to hers, and with a turn of his wrist, he entwined his fingers with hers. She stared at their hands, still feeling the tingling echoes of power racing between them, chasing along with the cadence of her heart.

When they ventured into The Nearby… they would part ways.

She glanced away from his piercing stare, giving his hand a tentative squeeze. "And where will you go — after we leave Timbervale?"

His tongue flickered out to moisten his lips and her eyes followed the movement, heat flaring in her chest and cheeks.

"I don't know yet." She could still feel his gaze on her. "Maybe I'll stick with you, for a while. If you'll have me."

A breath of hope, of anticipation and something  _else_ , chased from her lungs. "That would be nice." Her eyes caught his once more. "I think we can both learn a lot from one another, Prince Draco."

Draco grinned. He tugged her nearer by her hand and with the other, crashed an unexpected wave across her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The third and final part of this adventure. I may one day write the next phase of their story together, but for now this is it. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Alpha credit to Kyonomiko; beta love to CourtingInsanity.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

                                                            

"Where to next?"

Draco glanced up as he stowed the remains of their lunch into his pack. "I thought we would make our way back towards the meadow. It's been a few days already since you broke through The Nearby, and it may grow harder to track your path as more time passes."

Hermione nodded, slinging her bag and her bow onto her back as they prepared to venture out. They had lounged in the springs into the afternoon, and then basked in the sun until dry. Following a quick meal of leftovers from the village, they were prepared to continue on with their journey.

"We can take the path through the mountains if you like," Draco intoned, "although it'll take a bit longer than going back through the forests."

She smiled, her heart dancing a merry rhythm in her chest. "It doesn't matter."

He shrugged, even as his lips twitched. "We'll take the road north into the mountains and then make our way back west through the forest," he explained. "After all, you need to experience all Timbervale has to offer."

"Of course," she returned, her tone soft and musing. "Thank you for showing me this. And for last night."

He approached her side, his gaze flickering down to meet hers. "Maybe it's for me as much as for you." He was silent for a long moment as they began walking, pensive. "For as much as I don't want to rule, I do love Timbervale. I've always loved spending time out here in the wilds." His lips pulled up with amusement. "And it's sort of nice to have someone to share it with, now."

She returned the smile, feeling colour grace her cheeks. "Well I'm glad to not be alone, either. Maybe I can show you some of my favourite places in Cascadia one day."

Ever since Draco had suggested he might like to stick with her after leaving the woodland realm of his home, her mind had been racing at the possibilities. The places they could go together. She had only known him a few days, but for the first time, she could see the faint possibility of a life  _with_  someone else.

Most often, it was the case with fae that they bonded for life — and those bonds would twist and form into a living, palpable existence between the two. She had seen and admired it in her own parents' relationship. And it was always a tentative decision to pursue such a bond.

Furthermore, it was sobering to consider the fact that she was of such a simple station in life, when he was the Crown Prince of the realm.

But even so, she couldn't keep the smile from her face when he returned, "I'd like that."

* * *

Draco couldn't entirely comprehend the thoughts that cycled through his mind on a loop as he led Hermione through the mountain pass along the east of Timbervale. He had never met any female that held him so captivated, and he was ready to follow her through The Nearby to whichever realm she wanted to explore.

It was a rare case that two fae should feel so connected to one another so soon.

And he couldn't be sure, but he thought she felt it too, the tense pull between them. She wasn't of any sort of noble class, of course, in Timbervale or Cascadia, but Draco didn't care about any of that anyway. Especially if he never intended to rule.

"What's beyond the east?" she asked, gazing out towards the boundary of the realm.

"Nothing," Draco said with a shrug. "A great drop into nothing."

"Fascinating," she murmured, glancing to him. "I've never been to the boundaries of Cascadia. What lies further north?"

"More mountains," Draco intoned, sidling a step closer to her, a bracing hand extended. "Mind your footing here. These rocks can be loose. The mountains break back into forest, to the far north and west."

Hermione nodded, squinting into the distance again. "And what's that? Out there?"

She was gesturing to the tallest peak in the Timbervalian range. "I haven't been that far into the mountains," Draco explained. His own breath was starting to pick up at a combination of the higher elevation and the occasional steep climb of the rocky pass. "It is difficult to reach by foot. The mountain there is known as  _Escaro_. The Timbervalian word for  _heart_."

" _Escaro_ ," Hermione repeated, her gaze still fixed in the distance. "I think we should go to it." She cast him a glance, rolling her eyes at his skeptical brow. "Something in it is calling to me."

"Calling," Draco said, a furrow creasing his brow. "Like your magic?"

She nodded. "Something like that. Perhaps I have enough magic left from the springs… we might be able to chase it."

Draco blinked, shaking his head. "I don't know what you mean. Chase it?"

"It's… difficult to explain. It's a means of breaking through the time-space," Hermione said, fixing her chocolate eyes on his. Her fingers found his hand, and entwined with his. "Will you allow me to channel your magic?"

Draco swallowed, his heart racing in his chest at the intimacy of the gesture and the request. He didn't know much about magic, but he could feel the depth of trust he would be giving her if he surrendered control of his magic to someone else. He breathed, "Yes."

Her smile was kind as her hand gripped his more tightly. He could see the concentration in her stare, the sparkle that occurred at the periphery of her as his magic was tugged from somewhere deep within. In a moment, he understood the closeness of the act as he felt his magic flow through him to coil with hers. Draco swallowed, his gaze unblinking.

"You'll have to teach me this, when we get to Cascadia," he said.

"Draco, I'll teach you all of it," she whispered, and her eyes winked shut.

In an instant, they were elsewhere. Draco stumbled, jarred by the sudden transportation, but her hand still held his, securing him to the spot beside her. He gaped, a breath chasing from his lungs; before them stood the vast and cold beauty of  _Escaro_.

Hermione's hand tightened, squeezing the pulse from his own, and he followed her gaze, down from the rocky slopes of the mountain, into a valley far below.

"Hermione." He choked the word, eyes wide in astonishment.

"You said it yourself," she breathed in return. "The heart of Timbervale."

He shook his head, unblinking. "I never thought —" He turned to Hermione and there was a glaze to her eyes as she stared out over the crumbled ruins of the village below. "It's truly here."

Her warm eyes met his, a brilliant smile tugging at her cheeks.

Draco shook his head, heart racing a frantic beat in his chest. "And I never would have found it if not for you."

He pulled her closer by their entwined hands; Hermione stumbled and her free hand caught in the fabric of his cloak. Before he could consider his actions, his fingers trailed across her cheekbone, flushed in the mountain air, and along the length of her jaw.

And then he was kissing her, his lips pressed against hers, his eyes sliding shut at the feel of it. Her fingers fisted against his chest as her soft lips pillowed his, tucking herself tightly against him. His tongue grazed her lips, catching hers as he pulled her closer still, releasing her hand to wrap an arm around her back.

When they drew apart, hearts racing and breaths mingling, Draco felt his lips pull into a slow grin. Her eyes sparkled and she kissed him again. Then she smoothed a wrinkle from his chest, a secret within her gaze.

"Let's go explore, shall we?"

* * *

The descent into the valley had been perilous and slow, but the reward so worthwhile. They spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the ruins of what had once been a magnificent village.

Draco had heard it existed, but never could he have imagined all of this.

Homes built from the rock of the mountains, pathways of stone and overgrowth reaching through the cracks. Lanterns twinkled like fairy lights at every corner, as if they'd been waiting for someone to return at long last. As if they retained all of the magic that had been lost from the realm.

The ruins were formed in a circle, facing upon the largest structure of all, and Draco knew in his heart and his soul that it was the lost archives he had been searching for since he'd been a youth. At last, he would learn the truth of his own realm and all the others.

He swallowed, overcome with the emotion of it, and found Hermione at his side, her fingers twisted within his. He smiled down at her, huffing a long breath. "I can hardly believe this."

She pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, her breath warm and enticing.

And Draco knew that whatever it was that was stirring between them, she felt it too. He didn't know whether he was willing to separate it all out just yet, but he tugged her close to his chest all the same. Then he pulled her forward into the lost archives, knowing it would mean as much to her as it would to him.

Tall pillars of stone, eroded with time and exposure, welcomed them in. Hermione released his hand and darted alongside, her eyes wide as she took in the unparalleled wonder of the structure. Growth had overtaken the interior, trees bursting through the crumbled ceiling, tall grasses and wildflowers swaying in the soft breeze that fluttered through.

The brightness of the sun was failing, casting the interior of the ruins with a myriad of oranges and pinks and darkening blues. A wide staircase ascended before him and Draco held his breath as he approached. A tome, thick and broad, sat on an altar of stone, its cover in an ancient form of Timbervalian. It must have been imbued with an old protection spell, to still be held in one piece after so long.

"Can you read it?" came Hermione's hushed tone from his side.

He opened the cover, nodding, a thick lump in his throat preventing him from speech. "Most of it. Much of Timbervale speaks the common tongue now, but I learned as a child." He ran his fingers across the fragile parchment, faded and yellowed with age, its ink dull. He cleared his throat and read her the title: "A History of the Realms of the World."

He flipped through the first few pages, careful to mind the parchment, running his fingers along a drawing of a forest, dark green and umber pigments etched on the page. "Timbervale."

He could feel the tension beside him as Hermione held her breath, rapturous, watching. Three pages later, her breath hitched. Soft blue pigments traced a water's edge, and Draco read, "Cascadia."

There were pages of stone mountains, of deserts and sand hills, meadows and fields of wildflowers like the King's Meadow in Timbervale. A world of ice and snow.

"Can you believe it?" he whispered. The book went on for hundreds of pages, documenting the histories of each realm.

Her hand reached out to caress the page where he'd stopped; a grey pigment hovered like mist across the page. "The Nearby — this is what it looks like."

Draco blinked in surprise, reading the ancient text. "Of The Nearby — where all realms exist and none at once."

Hermione peered at the small drawing, her fingers gentle as they traced the page. "Does it say anything about breaching it? I think if we can combine our magic we can get back through — but just in case."

He read down the page, his recollection poor on certain characters, but shook his head. "All it says about accessing The Nearby is that… I'm paraphrasing because it doesn't translate well into the common tongue, but… if the heart is true, the realm shall appear."

Dusk had fallen and the lanterns drifted in and out of his periphery, but it was too dark to carry on reading. He closed the book, his hands lingering on the thick cover before stepping away from the altar. There was a lightness and a fullness to his heart that he couldn't recall feeling as he glanced at Hermione.

"As wonderful as this is," he said, casting her a sidelong glance, "I'll look forward to exploring it all, one day."

Her hand slipped into his once more. "As will I."

"We'll make for the meadow at dawn, and from there we'll find your entrance to The Nearby." He took a long breath, pulling Hermione into his arms. "And perhaps one day, once we're through, the forest will call me home."

* * *

They slept beneath the stars, tangled amongst the tall grasses in the ruins of the archive and one another's arms.

Hermione woke with the light of the sun streaming through in shafts, casting the crumbling stone walls with an otherworldly glow. Draco's grey eyes jolted open, pale and sparkling with the soft light of the rising sun. His lips curved into a smirk and found hers, his tongue slow and tantalizing as he kissed her like he could spend millennia doing so.

Finally they broke apart, exuberant with the energy of the sun blazing down, and risen for a breakfast of roasted fruits from the village.

After another tour of the ruined village, its appearance joyous and placid in the light of day, Hermione summoned together the waning power of their magic and chased them back as far as the mountain pass.

From there, the journey north and west continued.

Hermione's heart raced in her chest with the memory of all she had seen and experienced in her few short days since leaving Cascadia and making her way into Timbervale. The depths of the vast wilderness she had explored — and that she had found a travelling companion of her own.

Her focus was now fixed on breaking through into The Nearby once more, and on the realm in which they would next land.

By the time they broke back into the forest, Hermione was pleased to once more see the protective umbrella of verdant greenery high overhead. The trees here were ancient and wide, nearly as much so as those in Bristlecone where they had feasted and danced. But as the day wore on and the path lead them further into the heart of the forest once more, the trees were tall but narrow.

When they rested for lunch, Draco scaled the tallest tree he could find and leapt from one to the next, causing a horrendous gasp to chase from her lungs. She'd grumbled under her breath, "Show-off."

Then he helped her to practice with her bow and arrows once more, his chest firm and tantalizing against her side as he corrected her form. His eyes caught hers, his lips curving, and they were distracted again.

The failing light of day was almost upon them when Draco extended a hand to falter her step, his grey eyes sharp as he cast her a quick glance. "We're near to the territory of Hawthorn's Hazard once more. The king's archers patrol these woods. Just to the north lies the tributary of the stream, and beyond there, the king's meadow."

"Then this is the way I came," she whispered, eyes flickering around. It had been easy to forget, exploring the wilderness with Draco, that she had been exiled from this territory, and that he had fled.

Orienting herself with the flow of the stream, she turned to face the direction from which she had come. Draco nodded, pacing forward and dropping to the ground. His fingertips swept the ground, searching for disturbed earth.

"Your trail is faint," he whispered, "but still here. Luckily you walked without due grace or care, considering you had breached an unknown realm."

She heard the amusement in his voice and scowled as she bent to see what he was looking at. He traced something that might have been the outline of her boot, though she struggled to see it.

The pair trekked onward as the day began to fade into dusk and Draco was soon unable to see well enough to continue following the trail.

"Do you remember the magic you used to break through?" he asked, as they leaned against the solid trunk of an old cedar, picking at the remains of their dinner.

Hermione nodded, snacking on a handful of berries. "Yes. And if I can channel our combined magic again, it should be enough. I don't know that I would have made it through on my own — and I would have had trouble trying to find it."

"You absolutely would not have found it," he teased, nudging her in the shoulder. "You were  _so_  lost when I took pity on you."

She scowled at him, folding her arms. "I would have eventually made my way."

"Before or after you'd starved to death with your amateur archery skills?" He snickered, taking a long drink of water. He'd filled both of their skeins once they came across the flowing water of the king's meadow, and nothing had happened.

Hermione huffed a breath through her nose as he grinned.

"I'm only teasing, of course." His expression softened into something else entirely. "I never would have found the archives without you. I'm glad you've been with me and not just to have someone along — but that it's you."

Her irritation with him sloughed away at the sentiment and she returned the smile, her fingers dancing across the back of his hand, laying on the ground beside her. "Same. I'm glad it's you."

He leaned back against the trunk, taking her hand with him. "Ted and Andromeda loved you, by the way. And my cousin, Dora." He gave her a fond stare. "I asked them to pass my regards to my parents, when the squadron of archers come looking for me."

"Good," Hermione murmured, entwining their fingers. "I imagine they would have worried if you just vanished."

He gave a flippant shrug, belied by a pensive expression. "I guess they might have." His brow flickered. "We'll carry on in the morning — it can't be much further now."

She drifted off to sleep, the stars twinkling overhead through the canopy, his warm arms tight around her.

* * *

Draco awoke with a sort of anxious trepidation and was on his feet to prepare his bag before he could think to stay basking in the warmth of Hermione at his side.

Being so close to the Hazard was unnerving, and the likelihood of being discovered was so much greater. He wanted to move fast and cover ground before anyone could come across them. He had no interest in explaining to his parents that he was leaving — or in their attempts to convince him otherwise. And at this point he was committed — if Hermione had to leave, he would leave with her anyway.

She stirred, bleary eyes fluttering awake, her hair wild with sleep. His heart leapt in his chest as she caught his eye and gifted him a sleepy smile.

She dusted herself off, wrapped herself in the forest cloak — looking for all the world like a Timbervalian — and threw her arms around his neck, reaching up to press her lips against his. "Today's the day."

"Today," Draco echoed, his voice rough with disuse. "The first of the rest of all days."

The rest of her trail led to a nondescript area closer to the Hazard than he would have guessed — and nearby to a boulder Draco had seen hundreds of times in his travels.

"So this is the portal," he said, the words feeling anticlimactic as they left his mouth.

She nodded, coming up alongside him. Her hand found his. "Are you ready?"

His mouth was dry, a thick lump in his throat. He could only nod in return.

He caught her chocolate gaze, his same anticipatory trepidation echoed back.

She raised their clasped hands, and Draco once more felt his magic drawing out from the well deep within him, and pouring through into her. The faint shimmer from before once more glowed around her edges, and this time, Draco felt it pull on him as well as her magic delved and twisted deeper with his. He could feel the depths of her soul, and if she hadn't held him so tightly, he might have lost his grip as the magic swirled and pulled with greater force. He had never experienced such a thing. He hadn't realized the depth of his own magic.

"Hold on," her voice whispered, and it sounded far away. "It's almost there." He blinked several times, his focus returning, and there was something that felt so final — her clammy hand released his, the shimmer fading from her hair.

Draco stumbled, feeling weak and jittery from the expulsion of so much magic, and as he opened his mouth to ask her whether it had worked, he stopped. A soft smile lingered on Hermione's lips as she gazed forward, and Draco could  _feel_  The Nearby — he could hear it, a dull vibration that grew into the sounds of all of the world at once.

"This is it," he breathed.

She echoed, "Yes, this is it. Once we step forward, we'll have left Timbervale."

Draco took her into his arms once more, pressing a kiss into her curls. He caught her twist, entwining his fingers with hers once more. He could see by the look on her face — they were ready.

With a deep, steeling breath, he met her gaze — transfixed in the warmth, the excitement, the  _hope_  he found there.

And together, they took the next step beyond.


End file.
